Mozart. Or was it Beethoven? That popular bit sometimes played at weddings. Why he should think of a wedding march, he didn’t know —should be a military march. Something was up. Something dire. All manner of grave military folk scurried about the street this morning.
“Yes, Blake here. It may interest you to know that the American priest has a visitor. Yes, currently . She just went in. You’ll have thirty minutes to get here before she leaves. You said to call immediately —there you are. Have a good —Ah, let’s see . . . a Clare Childs. Lovely girl. Very expressive. Rather captivating, actually. Yes, I’m sure it says Clare Childs. Same one who was here yesterday. Yes , she was here yesterday, didn’t I just —? Well, she was the one who left with the American. No, no —not the ratlike bloke —the other one. Well, the same American I told you about yesterday . Murray Vance. Yes, they left together, didn’t I —? Well, I didn’t know it was Clare Childs yesterday, did I, as she didn’t sign the —? Hang on! Is that any way to —? Oh, you will, will you? Why don’t you just come down here and we’ll settle it —?”
He stared at the receiver, then replaced it, grumbling, “Scotland . . . bloody old . . . Yard.”
WELL, WASN’T THIS WAR just a bushel of discovery —Jamie realized how like his father he was when it suddenly occurred to him that he liked people, he liked to be in a group. No loner was he —not like Nigel, who took after the old man in other ways but wanted only a fishing trawler and a locker full of bait. Jamie wanted a crowded homey pub. He very much looked forward to falling in with Balantine’s crew. Sure to be pure relief after two days of . . .
“A flock of ravenous fowl come flying, lured with scent of living carcasses designed for death.”
“Not a very cheerful sort, is he?” said Balantine, who walked backward along the town street, rifle ready, eyes moving.
“No, he wouldn’t be. But it’s not always like that. Some of it’s all right. What will happen when we get to Dunkirk?”
“No idea. I’m sure there’s a plan.”
“Like this one?” Jamie said darkly, taking in the deserted streets. “This wasn’t the plan. We were supposed to stop them.”
“Well, we didn’t, did we? It’s all we talk about.” To the captain, he said, “Come along, sir. This way.”
“His head is pretty bad. Look, I have to warn you, he sort of has these fits. It’s getting a bit better, but he’ll make a horrible groaning sound, sort of turn into himself, and sometimes it gets loud. Lasts only a few minutes, puts the hair straight up your neck, but it does go away.”
“Have you heard the latest on the wounded?” The question sounded sly, like a test.
“Oh, I heard,” Jamie said, his tone answering.
Balantine eyed him. “You sound like me. One of my men gets wounded, not gonna leave him for the bloody Germans, I’ll tell you that. I’ll drag him to Dunkirk if I have to.”
Jamie rather liked this Balantine.
“How close do you think they are?” Jamie asked, eyeing the perimeters.
“Don’t know,” he answered. “But they’re coming. Right now, due north is our only hope. I’ll swim for England if I have to.”
“Have you seen action?”
“Some. You?”
“Oh sun, to tell thee how I hate thy beams that bring to my remembrance from what state I fell —” Captain Milton stood in the middle of the street and lifted his arms to the sky —“how glorious once above thy sphere, till pride and worse ambition threw me down.”
Jamie jogged back to collect him, answering Balantine over his shoulder, “Yes, if you count fleeing as action. For eight months we were on the French-Belgian line, near a decent little town we’d got to know quite well. All right, Milty? Come along.” He pulled him into step behind Balantine. “Nice place. One of our guys married the daughter of the mayor. Then a week or
“Yes, Blake here. It may interest you to know that the American priest has a visitor. Yes, currently . She just went in. You’ll have thirty minutes to get here before she leaves. You said to call immediately —there you are. Have a good —Ah, let’s see . . . a Clare Childs. Lovely girl. Very expressive. Rather captivating, actually. Yes, I’m sure it says Clare Childs. Same one who was here yesterday. Yes , she was here yesterday, didn’t I just —? Well, she was the one who left with the American. No, no —not the ratlike bloke —the other one. Well, the same American I told you about yesterday . Murray Vance. Yes, they left together, didn’t I —? Well, I didn’t know it was Clare Childs yesterday, did I, as she didn’t sign the —? Hang on! Is that any way to —? Oh, you will, will you? Why don’t you just come down here and we’ll settle it —?”
He stared at the receiver, then replaced it, grumbling, “Scotland . . . bloody old . . . Yard.”
WELL, WASN’T THIS WAR just a bushel of discovery —Jamie realized how like his father he was when it suddenly occurred to him that he liked people, he liked to be in a group. No loner was he —not like Nigel, who took after the old man in other ways but wanted only a fishing trawler and a locker full of bait. Jamie wanted a crowded homey pub. He very much looked forward to falling in with Balantine’s crew. Sure to be pure relief after two days of . . .
“A flock of ravenous fowl come flying, lured with scent of living carcasses designed for death.”
“Not a very cheerful sort, is he?” said Balantine, who walked backward along the town street, rifle ready, eyes moving.
“No, he wouldn’t be. But it’s not always like that. Some of it’s all right. What will happen when we get to Dunkirk?”
“No idea. I’m sure there’s a plan.”
“Like this one?” Jamie said darkly, taking in the deserted streets. “This wasn’t the plan. We were supposed to stop them.”
“Well, we didn’t, did we? It’s all we talk about.” To the captain, he said, “Come along, sir. This way.”
“His head is pretty bad. Look, I have to warn you, he sort of has these fits. It’s getting a bit better, but he’ll make a horrible groaning sound, sort of turn into himself, and sometimes it gets loud. Lasts only a few minutes, puts the hair straight up your neck, but it does go away.”
“Have you heard the latest on the wounded?” The question sounded sly, like a test.
“Oh, I heard,” Jamie said, his tone answering.
Balantine eyed him. “You sound like me. One of my men gets wounded, not gonna leave him for the bloody Germans, I’ll tell you that. I’ll drag him to Dunkirk if I have to.”
Jamie rather liked this Balantine.
“How close do you think they are?” Jamie asked, eyeing the perimeters.
“Don’t know,” he answered. “But they’re coming. Right now, due north is our only hope. I’ll swim for England if I have to.”
“Have you seen action?”
“Some. You?”
“Oh sun, to tell thee how I hate thy beams that bring to my remembrance from what state I fell —” Captain Milton stood in the middle of the street and lifted his arms to the sky —“how glorious once above thy sphere, till pride and worse ambition threw me down.”
Jamie jogged back to collect him, answering Balantine over his shoulder, “Yes, if you count fleeing as action. For eight months we were on the French-Belgian line, near a decent little town we’d got to know quite well. All right, Milty? Come along.” He pulled him into step behind Balantine. “Nice place. One of our guys married the daughter of the mayor. Then a week or
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